


Moving Forward

by metisket



Series: in the circus [1]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, circus brats have more fun, seriously wasn't cross bad enough, timcampy wants to know why he has to put up with this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:33:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metisket/pseuds/metisket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over, and now all Timcampy has to worry about is taking care of Allen. This is not as much of an improvement as it seems like it should be.<br/><i>“Well, we could always join the circus.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Forward

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Только вперед (Moving Forward by metisket)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1243894) by [e_nara (gentou_sanka)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentou_sanka/pseuds/e_nara)



> First posted June 2008. Since jossed, but I'm still nostalgic for the days when happy endings seemed like a possible thing in DGM.
> 
> Now with:  
> A [Russian translation](http://www.diary.ru/~nara6/p169920595.htm) by [jayazz](http://jayazz.livejournal.com/)

_The line separating great showmanship from brazen deception is indistinct_.” --Lee Kolozsy

Basically it fell out like this: Cross died.

I guess other people might not think that was the most important thing that happened, what with lots of other people dying and the destruction of the Noah and the way my Allen up and killed the Earl and big explosions or whatever, but for me? Cross died.

He wasn’t ever supposed to _die_. Allen and I were counting on that, you know? He was too much of a bastard to die. He was a lying, drunken, scheming womanizer, and we both figured God would do pretty much anything to keep him away as long as possible. Seems God’s got a higher tolerance for nasty human beings than we thought. Sort of kills a golem’s sense of purpose, having his boss die.

It’s one thing for Allen. Allen’s got plans of his own. I never had plans; people generally don’t even know I can _think_. It’s not like Cross was real forthcoming with that kind of information. Any kind of information.

He picked us up like two shiny shells on two different beaches, acted like he didn’t know we were two halves of a whole. Allen and Timcampy, Timcampy and Allen. The Musician. Bastard didn’t even have the decency to find us creepy.

Instead he used us, abused us, and then left us behind. It’s goddamn typical, is what.

* * *

Like I said, big explosions, and a lot of them were Allen’s fault. And since the big explosions were happening on some weird alternate reality plane, the debris from the explosions landed, you know, all over the world. We ended up in some random woods in Wales because we’re lucky like that. No one had a blind clue where everyone else was, and odds seemed pretty good that they’d mostly wound up in the ocean and drowned. The kids didn’t really mention that possibility, but you knew Bookman was thinking it. You could see it lurking there in his crazy catatonic eyes. Eye. Whatever. And my Allen was thinking it too, because my Allen always thinks of the worst thing first. Bless his morbid little heart.

Yeah, so. The kids. They weren’t doing so well. Only reason they were all together was because they’d been huddled like a big human ball when the whole thing blew, and I was there because I’d had a death grip on Allen’s hair. Jaws of doom! It was lucky, I guess. It didn’t look too lucky at first, though, because they were sitting there broken with all their scars showing, and it was freaking depressing. I hung out with Kanda, mostly. He’s always been the worst at hiding what’s wrong with him, so it wasn’t such an awful change, seeing him not even try. Bookman, though. That boy’s got problems I never even thought of before. Cross always said the Bookmen were 15 kinds of wacky, and as much as I don’t like to pick up Cross’s opinions, sometimes the guy had it right. Looks like this was one of those times.

So we had my Allen, Lenalee, Kanda, and Lavi-as-was, who was the Bookman by then; we all saw the old guy die. Get impaled. Yeah, it was pretty nasty. Cross, at least, went with some kind of style. Me and Allen, we’ve got that. Whatever’s left of Cross probably thinks the whole thing is funny as hell, too. I mean, he fought that shapeshifting Noah to a standstill, filled her full of bullets—he always did like killing things that looked like beautiful women, make of that what you will—and then he got run over by an akuma that looked like an elephant, and somehow that managed to kill him. Probably just because he wasn’t paying attention.

You know, it had that kind of surreal class to it. ‘And then he got run over by an elephant.’ I like it. Makes a good story.

Allen hadn’t gotten around to appreciating the humor in it, though. He was just sitting there wishing he was dead. He does this every time, right? He survives against all odds, and then he sits around looking alternately really tired and really pissed off about it. ‘Cut me some _slack_ , here,’ he’s thinking. ‘Haven’t I done _enough_ for you; can’t I _rest_ now?’ It’s some kind of insult that Cross went first. Guess there’s _only_ rest for the wicked.

Lenalee, she was like a puppet with her strings cut, and no wonder. She didn’t know if her brother was alive or not, and even if he was, he could be anywhere. And if he was dead, that was her will to live done and dusted.

Bookman’d gone catatonic, like I say. Think he was thinking that it wouldn’t have turned out the way it did if he’d kept his distance like he was supposed to, so he was making up for it overtime. He was keeping so far away he couldn’t even speak, and yet he was watching everything like a hawk. Creepy.

Then there was Kanda, who by comparison was acting pretty normal. For him. He looked lost and confused and he was holding his chest like he couldn’t believe his heart was still beating, but he didn’t look like he wanted it to _stop_ beating, so that gave him points over my Allen.

Anyway, I was sure they’d be fine eventually. They’d all lost everything before.

* * *

On the second day, Kanda started feeding them. It was, let me say, _the most hilarious thing I have ever seen_.

First he got up (which was crazy exciting) and found his way to some little town where they either couldn’t speak English or were refusing to on principle, and he haggled for some food. Several silver buttons and one spectacular temper tantrum later, he’d gotten it, and then he went back to share the bounty, right? I thought, this is gonna be good.

Started out easily enough; he went to Bookman and gave him some bread or something, and Bookman took it and ate it. He ate it with an eerie thousand yard stare, but he did eat.

Next he tried Lenalee. She wouldn’t eat on her own, but she would chew and swallow when he actually put stuff in her mouth. It was like watching Kanda feed a grown-up baby. It was disturbing in so many ways.

Ah, and then there was my Allen. You could see that little space of time where Kanda stood there and thought, I could just let him starve; who would know? But Kanda, he’s got inherent goodness. That’s the funniest damn thing about him. He only _wishes_ he hated everyone.

So, help us, he tried to feed Allen too.

Offering food did no good, Allen still being in the “why can’t I die; other people make it look so easy” phase. Then Kanda got this expression of long-suffering and tried to hand feed him, but that doesn’t work so well either if you’re getting no cooperation at all. Then he got a totally evil gleam in the eye and tried force-feeding. And then my Allen tried to kill him.

Hey, it was a response! It was definitely progress. Kanda was maybe not in a position to appreciate that, being all pinned against a tree by the Claw o’ Doom, but it totally was progress! And then Allen collapsed because he obviously hadn’t been eating and definitely didn’t have enough energy to maintain an activated Innocence. He can be dumb in strange ways.

So it was like this: Kanda was slumped against a tree telling Allen all about how he hoped he starved to _death_ and that was absolutely the last time Kanda was ever going to do a damn thing for him, and Allen was slumped against another tree telling Kanda all about how he had never asked for shit from Kanda in the first place and he didn’t want his pity and why was everyone incapable of leaving him alone for five minutes together. And then Kanda kept going with the insults and Allen descended into hissing. Like a cat.

He really is just like a cat. I love cats, I do. I wish they wouldn’t spend so much time trying to eat me, but they’re great with the way they hiss and spit and hate on everything, and then when they want something from you they curl up and purr and act adorable. I can’t decide if I love cats because I love Allen, or if it’s the other way around. Whichever.

In any case, the boys had a long fight in which basically nothing was said. Like so many of their fights. In fact, they have a definite pattern going.

“I can’t believe you’re _hissing_ at me. Is that some kind of Noah communication?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you should have let me starve since I’m practically a Noah.”

“Maybe I should have let you starve because you piss me off.”

“Maybe you should have let me starve because it’s _none of your business_ what I do.”

“I just didn’t want to have to worry about your corpse, suicidal beansprout.”

“ _My name is Allen_.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be grateful when people do things for you?”

“Do things like try to choke me with moldy bread!?”

“That bread is perfect, and it was goddamn hard to come by. Now shut up and eat it before you pass out.”

“I’m not going to pass out!”

“You _are_ going to pass out, and it’s going to be _annoying_.”

They went on. At length and with hurtful personal comments. But not that hurtful, and that gave me some hope with my Allen. If he was hurting badly enough, then he’d be wanting to hurt back, and when Allen wants to hurt, he can hurt _badly_. He’s a charmer; he always knows how to say what people want to hear. The flip side to always knowing what people want to hear is knowing exactly what they _don’t_ want to hear. It’s not often Allen uses that, but when he does, damn.

Kanda’s an easy mark, too. Like I said, he doesn’t hide stuff too well, and he’s got his little personal mission to find someone. Someone he’s never actually managed to find. Allen knows that because Allen listens too much, and I know it because people don’t think I can think. I know _lots_ of stuff I wish I didn’t know.

I bet Allen could pretty well lay Kanda open by mentioning the personal mission. Allen knows it, too. He didn’t do it, though.

Hey, maybe he’s not as messed up as I thought. Plus he ate the rest of their food and Kanda drove him off in a rage to get more. They’re practically being themselves.

* * *

It took a lot of days and many disturbing hand feedings (to say nothing of deeply weird guided trips to the toilet), but eventually Lenalee got her head sorted out the way she wanted it, and then she just woke up normal one morning. That was pretty disturbing in its own right, actually. Pretty sure you’re not supposed to just… _decide_ to be normal one day. Like, ‘snap, I’m not crazy anymore’? That’s not right.

In fact, you know, I _know_ Lenalee Li, and this is not how she works. Lenalee, she cries herself better pretty much every time. She hasn’t cried at all over this.

That’s it. She’s still crazy; she’s just making it look good. I’m counting her as crazy until I see her cry.

Still and all, she’s doing a decent job of playing sane, and that’s an improvement. Besides, she scared the boys silly, and I’m all in favor of that.

Kanda shook her awake while Allen was handing Bookman breakfast, and, after all those days of nothing, she just opened her eyes and said, “Kanda? Do you think we could go looking for my brother soon?”

Allen dropped all the food. Kanda blinked at her a couple times, then said, “Yeah. As soon as that Lavi guy starts walking around, we can go.” And Bookman actually turned to look at them.

I bit my Allen on the head out of sheer enthusiasm, but I don’t think he appreciated it. He always was ungrateful. Kanda’s right about that.

* * *

You get over things whether you want to or not, right? And it’s like, part of you definitely _doesn’t_ want to, which is weird. I guess that’s survivor guilt or something. You owe it to them not to get over it. Maybe.

Your habits all try to jump up and bite you, too. I keep looking for Cross, you know? I could always tell where he was before, and every once in a while if I’m not thinking about it, I look for him. And he’s not there. Always have this moment of panic, like, how’s he hiding from me and what’s he up to now? Then I remember he’s not up to anything anymore. Not anywhere I can find him, anyway.

Be glad when that passes, honestly.

Kanda was pretty okay all along, I think. Whoever he wanted to find, he still needs to find them. Doesn’t matter how many people die on the way. Allen was okay once he figured out there are still lots of akuma around—him killing the Earl doesn’t mean they all disappeared, just that there won’t be any new ones. Lenalee, she’s telling herself she can find her brother. Who knows, maybe she can. Bookman’s still got his History of Everything According to the Bookmen to write. At least, that’s what _he_ thinks got him up and moving. Me, I notice he started talking not too long after Lenalee started talking.

I don’t make anything of it. I just note it.

After a while, they got to fighting over how they were gonna continue paying for food once they were out of buttons (not knowing what became of the Black Order), and I took it as a good sign. They were thinking long term; that had to be good, right? I wanted to add my bit, of course, but I can only really contribute to a conversation by biting someone, and I try to save that for special occasions.

They came up with a lot of stupid things, I don’t know what all. They wanted something where they could move around a lot, looking for whatever they were looking for—the Order, loved ones, what have you—and they wanted something they could leave at any time, like when they found what they were looking for. They also wanted some cover, just in case something funny was going on with the Order and the Vatican and they had to pretend not to be involved. So they had lots of moving around ideas. Mercenaries was one. Peddlers was another. Wandering teachers; was Bookman who shot that one down, strangely enough. Maybe he knew he’d be doing all the work.

Lots of arguing, lots of things thrown out, lots of insulting the intelligence, so on. And then finally, my Allen, he says, “Well, we could always join the circus.”

* * *

They did join the circus. For serious, for real, they joined the circus. On the one hand, it is about perfect for what they wanted, and they’re all crazy acrobats already. On the other hand, _Allen made Kanda join the circus_.

It’s good only my Allen has any idea what I’m thinking. And it’s good he has a great poker face. Otherwise there’s no way this would end any other way than everyone being cut into little pieces by Mugen. Heh. Circus Kanda. _Circus Kanda_. Ahhhh, even better than Kanda, Provider of Food.

This is good for Bookman, too. I think the whole idea of it is causing him to regain his sense of humor, and once he has his sense of humor back, he won’t be nearly as much of a waste of space as he is right now. I’m excited for it. Go, go, Circus Kanda. You’ll save us all yet.

He has some kind of knife-throwing routine; I’m sure it’s very manly. Mhmm.

“I’m not wearing… _tights_.”

“It’s like a uniform, Kanda.”

“It’s not like a uniform I’m ever going to wear in this lifetime, beansprout.”

“What, you prefer the skirt?”

“You can hide weapons under the skirt. You can’t hide anything under _those_.”

“You don’t _need_ to be hiding weapons; no one’s going to try to kill you onstage!”

“There could be akuma anywhere.”

“Kanda, if you…you know that if you kill someone during a performance— _even_ if it’s an akuma—that’s not going to help sales. You do know that, right?”

“So I’m just supposed to let it go?”

“Just point it out and let _us_ handle it, okay? I’ll probably see it long before you do, anyway. God, you’re so bloodthirsty.”

“I’m not _bloodthirsty_ , beansprout. Killing things is our job. We’ve had this talk.”

“You never think long-term, you’re an idiot, and _my name is Allen_.”

If they knew how many people eavesdropped on these conversations, they wouldn’t have to wonder why no one wants to eat lunch with them.

Now, despite Circus Kanda, the circus is not all smiles and roses and regular paychecks, because the circus, in the way of circuses, is broke. I think that’s some kind of circusy rule. Bookstores and charities, they have this same rule. If you’re not broke, it’s only because you’ve got an investor with more money than sense.

* * *

“We don’t need this circus. If it goes under, we can just find another circus. So why the hell are we the ones out… _saving_ it?”

“They let us join up, Kanda. They didn’t have to; we owe them. Don’t be so ungrateful.”

“Don’t be such a bleeding heart.”

“It’s not like I’m putting myself out. I just happen to know someone who might help, that’s all.”

“How would _you_ know a rich guy?”

“I have friends in many places, okay? I realize it might be hard for someone like you to understand.”

“I can’t believe you dragged me into London for this. He won’t remember you and this will be a big waste of my time.”

“Don’t worry, I know exactly how precious your time is. You have to get back to some serious…what is it you do all day? Brooding?”

“We can’t all be grinning idiots, beansprout.”

“ _My name is_ —”

“Remind me again why Lenalee couldn’t come. I was kinda hoping there might be someone sane to talk to while you two…whatever.”

“Lenalee has to talk Jack into letting us look for an investor.”

“…Yeah. You do know what Jack’s going to do to us when he realizes that we were looking for an investor while Lenalee was talking him into letting us look for an investor, don’t you?”

“I don’t think we need to bother him with these details about exactly when things happened. Do you?”

“The beansprout is a sociopath.”

“I guess it takes one to know one.”

“Don’t fight, kids.”

“SHUT UP, LAVI.”

Sometimes I really, really wish Cross were still around, just so I could play this stuff back to him. If we ever find Komui, I’ll play it for him, and he’ll definitely appreciate it…but it just won’t be the same. I’m gonna miss that evil cackle.

* * *

Back on that first day in London, everyone went for a look at Order Headquarters. It was a ruin, just like we left it. Looked like no one had touched it in all the time we were gone.

Day after that, no one left the room, and the kids told everyone who came to check on them that they were sick.

* * *

They did finally find that kid’s house. And when I say, “they found it,” I obviously mean, “I took them there.” My Allen, he couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag. One too many hits to the head with a hammer, maybe.

Kid opened the door, and Allen bowed to him. Allen gets like that sometimes.

“Good morning, John,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”

Oh yeah, his name’s John. It has been a long time. He must be, what, 15, 16 by now. He found some dignity somewhere, too, which is good, because it takes a lot of dignity to be able to pull off those weird hat things he still wears, though I see he lost the rolling shoes. Not bad-looking, this kid. All in all, I approve.

So John just stood there staring for a while. Then he said, “Oh my God. Allen?” And Allen smiled his yes-I-am-that-adorable smile, and John tackled him.

Bookman laughed, but Kanda did _not_ like it. Oh, Kanda didn’t like it at all.

I just note it.

Since John had tackled Allen right to the sidewalk, he had to sit up to check out these other people. He chose to sit on Allen and look at Kanda, and I thought he might die from the force of the glare alone. He scrambled to get off Allen. Say what you will, the kid’s not stupid.

“Oh my God, are these other exorcists!?” he asked, helping Allen up and carefully not looking toward Kanda. “Wow, that’s awesome! Wow! Hey, how have you been? What’s going on? Have you been fighting lots of akuma? My dad, you know, he just…I don’t know, he went off for business a couple of months back and he sends letters but they don’t say anything and I really, really want to know how things are going, but, you know, I don’t have anyone to ask and it’s been, gosh, ages since I knew anything new and the whole world could be ending and I—”

“Damn, Earflaps, take a breath.” Bookman looked like not laughing was taking most of his concentration and all of his strength. _Knew_ he’d be more fun once he got his sense of humor back.

“Sorry, sorry!” John flailed; it wasn’t a bit dignified. “It’s just been ages since I saw Allen! He saved my life once! He’s the best! I thought, man, how could this skinny kid save my life? But he did! Isn’t he great? He’s great, huh? Wow, _exorcists!_ ”

Bookman should have just given up and laughed. I thought he was gonna sprain something.

“Gosh, are you just visiting? Did you want something? Did you wanna see my dad, cuz he’s away. Are you hungry? I could feed you! Come in! I’ll feed you and you can tell me stuff and it’ll be great!”

“You don’t have to feed us, John, but thanks.” Allen smiled again as John dragged everyone into the…parlor? Sitting room? I’m not wise to the ways of rich people. Allen’s deadly with that smile, though. Heh. “Actually, we did want to ask your father about something. You have no idea when he’ll be back?”

“Oh, no. Probably not for ages, though. He was muttering something about really big explosions, and then he just took off, not a word.”

“Really big explosions, huh?” Bookman tipped a look at Allen. “Wonder what that was all about.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, John,” Allen said, opting to totally ignore Bookman. “I should have introduced you. We’re all exorcists, you were right. This is Kanda, and this is—”

“Bookman,” said the Bookman. And he said it with a hint of the thousand yard stare. I’d wondered when he was going to start calling them on that.

Allen and Kanda studied him for a bit, and then Allen said, real quiet, “Yes. Bookman.” Kanda turned away.

There was a pause, short but extremely awkward, before Allen turned and said, “And this is John. His father’s a scientist for the New World Alliance. We met…just before I joined the Order, actually. He knows a bit about akuma.”

“I met the Millenium Earl once,” John said with big eyes.

“Yeah, well, Walker killed him, so you can stop worrying about it,” said Kanda.

“He—wait—you—what? _What!?_ ”

“Um?” My Allen. He says the smartest things.

“Two months. Has it really been two months already?” Bookman wondered out loud, which is always a mistake when you’re in a room with Kanda.

“Of course it’s been two months. Not that you two would know anything about it. You both spent most of the first month staring straight ahead refusing to talk while I had to _feed_ you.”

“What are you babbling about?” Allen demanded indignantly. “I was talking weeks before Lavi was!”

“Then again, the _rabbit_ didn’t try to kill me when I fed him.”

“It’s Bookman, actually,” Bookman reminded them.

“Shut up, Lavi,” they replied.

In the meantime, the kid’s eyes had gone wider than I thought human eyes could go. Kind of a lot to take in, really, what with the apocalypse averted and the guy who did it going ballistic on his friend in your living room. Parlor. Whatever.

“You beat him?” he interrupted finally, possibly just before furniture started getting thrown and swords started getting drawn. “It’s…it’s all over? He’s gone?”

“Yeah, Earflaps,” said Bookman, sounding tired. “It’s over.”

“Not _exactly_ over,” corrected Allen, giving Bookman a disapproving look. “The Millenium Earl is dead, but—”

“You seriously killed the Millenium Earl!?”

“Yes, he died. A lot of people died. And a lot of akuma are still around, and we don’t know what happened to the rest of the Order. We really need the funds to go find that out, and so we wanted to ask your father if he’d invest in a circus.”

John stared at Allen for a while. He lifted his funny hat, scratched his head, put the hat back on, and stared some more. “I don’t get you,” he said reflectively.

* * *

“My dad actually put me and his solicitor in charge of his finances last year,” John explained, leading us up a staircase lined with lots of machines that looked like they might just reach out and crush me for the hell of it. “It’s because he’s gone so often for work. The solicitor—Mr. Bowman—he didn’t like it much at first, working with a kid and all that, but he got used to it okay. He pretty much leaves things up to me now. It’s up to me if I want to invest in something, and we can afford a loss right now. Dad won’t mind if it’s for the Black Order, I know he won’t.”

I checked on my Allen, and his face was glowing with the unholy light of a scam well completed. Bookman was trying not to laugh again, and Kanda was trying really hard not to look like he was impressed in spite of himself. Wish Lenalee had been there. Bet she’d have been looking like this was exactly what she’d expected to happen. She’s great like that. Also she feeds me chocolate. I love that woman.

John sifted through files and mounds of papers all covered in numbers. He flipped through ledgers and pulled down dusty books. He made phone calls. Cross went his whole life without ever once being this organized. Then again, Cross would never in his life have been able to turn to you and say, “We can easily spare £1000. I think that should help—will it be enough?”

Easily spare £1000. Ha ha. Indeed.

Kanda choked, Bookman bit the back of his hand, and Allen smiled his sweetest smile and said, “That should be more than enough. Thank you so much, John. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

John looked so proud, it was touching. Or it would have been touching if you didn’t realize how utterly he’d just been played.

My Allen. Devious, scheming, manipulative; way too many formative years with Cross. Because this is exactly how Cross worked. The man never lied to anyone about it—he walked up and said, “Hey, I’d like to take a lot of your money and use it for purposes of my own, about which I plan to tell you very little.” And everyone responded, “Of course, General Cross. Here. Let me pawn my priceless family heirlooms for you.”

Been watching it for years and I still don’t get how it works. Clearly Allen’s got it, though. Between this and the gambling, Cross trained him to be a little money-making _machine_.

* * *

“Well? How did it go?”

Lenalee had coffee for the boys, food for my Allen, and chocolate for me. Lenalee is my personal goddess. Even if she is crazy.

“Allen Walker is scary,” Bookman announced. “I was standing right next to him and I still don’t know what happened; I suspect brainwashing.”

“I told you he was a friend,” Allen said stiffly.

“Mm, everyone’s friends hand out thousands of pounds whenever they’re asked politely,” murmured Kanda, still trying his damnedest not to look impressed. “You see it all the time.”

“Just because _you_ —”

“Did you just say… _thousands_ of _pounds?_ ” And it’s a good thing she’d put the coffee tray down before she registered that, because she totally would have dropped it otherwise.

“Just _one_ thousand. And he said he’d ask his father if he knows anything about where the rest of the Order is. His father works for the New World Alliance, did I tell you that?”

“No, Allen,” Lenalee said, sounding a little dazed. “You didn’t mention that.”

“Oh. Well. He does.”

“I see. So…this friend of yours invested his father’s money in the circus?”

“Not exactly,” Kanda said, looking vaguely out the window.

“He more…he decided it would be easier if he just donated the money,” Allen explained, waving his hands around as if that would make Lenalee understand that this behavior was normal. “Well, not exactly _donated_. Lavi’s going to write up the story of what happened in that last battle. For him. So it’s really just like he’s paying a lot of money for the story.”

Bookman collapsed in a chair and started laughing.

“Allen,” Lenalee said in that gentle voice people use on the insane. “You’re telling me that your friend…gave us £1000 and volunteered to draft his father into looking for our colleagues. And in exchange, Lavi is going to tell him a story. Am I missing anything?”

“Think that covers it!” said Bookman with a happy wave to indicate total lunacy.

“Brainwashing people is very wrong, Allen,” Lenalee said sternly. “Do I have to give you the same lecture I gave my brother?”

“I told you I didn’t _brainwash_ him! He’s just a nice guy! Shut up, Lavi!”

But it was a lost cause, because by that time, Kanda was covering his mouth with one hand to hide the smirk, Lenalee was laughing, Bookman was practically on the floor, and I was dive bombing Allen’s head because it’s fun. All the common sense had left the room ages ago.

* * *

“I told you kids I wouldn’t have any damn investors!”

Jack, the guy who nominally runs the circus, is going to bust a blood vessel someday from all the shouting.

“Investors, hah! They get _ideas_. They think just because they give a guy some money, suddenly they can up and run his circus! Well, I won’t have it! I told that girl, the dancer, I told her I wouldn’t do it and I won’t do it and that’s final!”

He sat back, satisfied. His wife, Anne, the lady who actually runs the circus, nodded confirmation.

Under normal circumstances, that would have been the end of it. Of course, they weren’t normal circumstances. Allen was involved.

“We understand how you feel, sir,” said my Allen, looking sweet and sincere. “But my friend hasn’t expressed any interest in running your circus. He doesn’t actually want to invest, exactly. We explained our situation, with business being what it is, and he felt that…it would be the best thing just to donate some money. He’s a great fan of the circus, you see.”

Jack and Anne were maybe a bit won over by all that talk of _your_ circus, and fans of the circus, and hard times, and money being given away. Not completely won over, but great strides had been made.

Damn, he’s good.

“How much money is your friend thinking to give us?” Jack demanded. “Because if he’s giving us one or two quid to make himself feel better, well, we can just do without!”

“Actually, he was planning on giving us £1000. He hoped that would be enough to help. He’s given me £400 in cash for now—here it is—and he plans to give us the remaining £600 in three installments over the next six months.” Allen smiled.

You’ve got to understand what this looked like from Jack and Anne’s point of view. _Everyone_ had come along to watch this show, so we were _all_ in there, and while the kids are almost capable of passing for respectable if they want to, none of them were really trying at the time except Allen. So the picture was something like this:

Bookman and Kanda leaning against either side of the door looking absolutely feral. Lenalee drifting aimlessly around the room, walking that line between fey and insane. Some unidentified gold ball flying around the place, they don’t know how it works or what it is. Last but not least, there’s Allen, standing right in front of them looking like the most innocent and wholesome of boys-next-door (mind not the scars and white hair), and offering them £1000, allegedly no strings attached, from they-know-not-whom.

“Why should we trust you?” Jack asked suspiciously.

“Because I just handed you £400,” Allen said. Dumb questions make him impatient.

Good thing their desire for money overran their common sense, or they would have kicked us out right then. We were new hires. They had no real reason to trust us, and about a hundred good reasons not to. Then again, it’s pretty hard to look a big chunk of your annual income right in the face, and then kiss it goodbye cuz you don’t like the method of delivery. Would take stronger people than Jack and Anne, for a start.

I could tell Bookman was gonna have another laughing fit the minute we got out of there.

* * *

“Oh, we’re supposed to call Lavi ‘Bookman’ in public now,” Allen mentioned absently, counting up the till at the end of the day. “I meant to tell you before, but all that money stuff came up.”

Lenalee’s hands paused over the rope she was coiling. “He told you that? To call him Bookman?”

“Um, not exactly. I was introducing him to John, and he interrupted me. Before I said his name.”

“Well, that’s…strange.”

“Not really.” Allen looked at her curiously. “He _is_ the Bookman now. They’re not supposed to have a name, are they?” 

“They’re not supposed to have friends, either,” Lenalee said, looking kinda tight-lipped and angry. “If he’s really the Bookman, why is he still with us? The war’s over.”

Allen smiled in that way he smiles when a normal person would be screaming or crying or committing suicide. “Maybe the _story’s_ not over until we find the Order,” he suggested. “The record, I guess they call it.”

“Yes, well,” and she was treating that rope with some serious violence, wow, “if he leaves us once we find everyone else, I’m going to be _really angry_.”

“Oh-kaaay,” Allen said, eyeing her like he’d like to leave, but knew better than to run from a predator. “Maybe you should tell him that. Maybe you should tell him that with that _exact look_. He wouldn’t dare.”

“Are you telling me my face is scary, Allen Walker?” she demanded, but I noticed she eased up on the rope a little.

“Only when you want it to be, Lenalee Li,” he said, smiling at her. She kinda blushed.

I’m noting it, but at this point I’m also noting that if anyone ever acts on any of this, it’s gonna turn into a whole _parade of awkward_. Partly because I’m pretty sure there’s no one my Allen would say no to. Because. Formative years with Cross.

_Anyway_.

They went on with the clean-up—companionable silence, I love it when the kids manage that. But right before they went their separate ways, Lenalee got Allen’s arm in a death grip and gave him a seriously deranged look.

“I’m not losing _any_ of you,” she hissed at him, and he didn’t try to bolt only because he’s very brave. “I’ve lost enough. The war is over, and I’m _done_ losing people who are important to me. Never again, do you understand? _Never_.”

“Not going anywhere!” Allen promised, sounding a little panicky. “Don’t think Kanda’s going anywhere. Worse come to worst, we can always tie Lavi up.”

“If that’s what it takes,” Lenalee said wrathfully, and she let Allen go and strode off.

“Timcampy?” Allen said very quietly once he was completely sure she was out of earshot. “Let’s not make Lenalee really mad at us, okay? Ever.”

My Allen, you are a very smart guy.

* * *

“Soooo, what’s the trouble?” asked Bookman, giving his best leer, which is pretty good, but not up to Cross standards. “Not that I’m not touched to be…forcibly dragged out for coffee and all, Allen. I just didn’t know we were that kind of close.”

“I’m afraid Kanda’s going to kill an akuma in the middle of a performance,” Allen said, viciously stabbing his food with a fork. “If he does that, we’re all going to be kicked out, and I doubt we’ll be taking John’s money with us.”

Bookman made a brave attempt to look like he was taking this seriously. He’s always doing that. Don’t think anyone buys it. “He could even get arrested,” he pointed out. “That would be…that would be awful.” And not funny at all, Bookman. _Serious business_.

“Huh?” Allen looked up from the mutilated food, confused. “Oh. No, he wouldn’t get arrested. Or, well, we could get him out pretty quickly.”

“You sure about that? We don’t have the high-up support we used to. Unless you’re thinking you’d smuggle Mugen in to him.”

“Wouldn’t have to,” Allen said between bites, waving his fork dismissively. “I know a London policewoman who understands about exorcists. She’d help us get him out.”

“Allen.”

“Yeah?”

“There anyone in London you don’t know?”

“What do you mean? I hardly know anyone in London.” And the food was gone. Watching Allen eat is like watching a minor miracle.

“How did you meet a London policewoman, Allen?”

“Well, I was coming to join the Order and there was this akuma in a church and a cat ate Tim and her brother was—Look, can we talk about Kanda first?”

“Alright, but you _are_ telling me that story; sounds fascinating. So did you mention to Yuu that he shouldn’t kill akuma in public?”

“He told me it was his _job_.” Rolling of the eyes.

“Yeah, he would,” Bookman snickered. “Okay. I’ll talk to him. Actually, I’ll have Lenalee talk to him. Come to think of it, why aren’t you having this talk with Lenalee?”

“She’s selling tickets.”

“It’s a trial to be so presentable.”

“Ha, must be. Oh, and, uh. Lenalee’s probably going to want to talk to you. Um. Sometime.”

“Is she? Why?”

“Um, who knows?” Allen laughed nervously. “I was worrying about Kanda, myself, so—agh, he’s impossible! ‘Don’t kill things that look like people in front of an audience.’ Why is that so hard to understand? I swear he does it out of spite.”

Bookman gave him a look that indicated he wasn’t fooling anyone, but all he said was, “Aw, Yuu loves us, really. He’s just shy.”

Allen snorted. “Yeah, he’s shy.” He turned to the window and watched the people walk by outside for a little while; got all serious. “But he does care about us,” he said. “He spent all that time protecting us and getting us food and everything. He didn’t have to do that.”

Bookman started going a little thousand-yard-stare. “I don’t remember it,” he said.

“What kind of Bookman are you, huh?” Allen asked lightly, tracing random patterns in the condensation on the window. “Isn’t remembering everything your job description?”

I really hoped Allen would look at Bookman’s face before he said some other stupid thing that shook up the guy’s whole world.

“You’re right. I’m no Bookman. I lost…a month. I can’t believe I…Panda’d be so disappointed, you know? He’d be disappointed, but I can’t…I’m all there is left. There’s no one to do this job but me, and I, I have no distance, I can’t be objective, I lost a _month_ —”

“Stop that,” Allen snapped, and he twisted to face Bookman. _Finally_. If he’d done that before, he could have seen this coming and we wouldn’t have _had_ this moment of trauma and breakdown. Jeez, Allen.

“You’re only human,” Allen said. “You lost a couple of weeks in which nothing happened, but you remember the battle, and that’s what counts. I always thought Bookman asked way too much of you and himself and the whole world. There are just things you _can’t do_ , okay? It doesn’t matter how hard you try or how much you want it. Sometimes it’s impossible. That’s what the Earl thought, you know. That he was better than humans and he could control everything and keep his distance and just do and be whatever he wanted. And he was wrong, too.”

“So you’re saying I’m like the Millenium Earl? Thanks a lot.” Bookman’s looking more horrified at Allen than at himself, now. Allen so wins at human interaction as long as he’s paying attention.

“I’m saying the Millenium Earl was so lonely he lost his mind, Lavi. He didn’t even let the Noah close, not really. You can’t live like that. You can’t even watch other people living when you’re like that. It’s a stupid idea.”

“You’re undermining centuries of Bookman tradition, beansprout.”

“Just because you’ve always done it that way doesn’t mean it’s not stupid. And don’t call me _beansprout_.”

Bookman’s got the crazy recording-for-posterity gleam in his eye now, which is always a good sign. Or a bad sign, if you happen to be the one he’s looking at. He looks at my Allen like that a lot. “So, Allen. The Millenium Earl was lonely, huh? He tell you that?”

Allen fidgeted and turned back to the window. “He didn’t have to tell me. It was…obvious, I guess.”

“Obvious to you.”

“I guess.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t _hmm_ , I hate it when you _hmm_.”

“Hmm.”

“Brat.”

“Older than you.”

“Only in years.”

Then they were quiet, but it was an okay quiet. Not that creepy kind of quiet where I feel like I should bite somebody just to shake things up. Comfortable quiet; Allen watching the people go by, Bookman reading the paper. Eventually Bookman looked up and asked, “How do you do that, anyway? How do you keep from blaming yourself?”

Allen shrugged at the window. “I do blame myself. But…Mana said….” He trailed off and started drawing in the condensation again. An arc, loops and lines of various lengths intersecting it. Just like a kid’s secret code, if the kid in question was insane and thought mostly in angles.

“‘Keep moving forward,’” Bookman translated, and Allen smiled at the window and said, “See? You’re a fine Bookman.” 

* * *

The first time they found an akuma, I was a little worried that Allen and Kanda might just die of glee.

The kids were hanging around in a room in one of the fleabag inns we tend to stay in between shows, and they were as near as they come to peaceful. Bookman was reading, Lenalee was trying (oh, futility) to teach Allen to cook, and Kanda was watching them while pretending to meditate. It was cute and domestic and stuff.

Then Allen went goggle-eyed and said in this reverent voice, “It’s an _akuma_.”

I love my Allen, I do. But the kid’s got issues. Not least among them is the way he really, honestly loves the akuma. And he loves killing them, too. He can say whatever he likes about freeing their souls blah blah, but he likes them _when_ they’re akuma. Funny in the head, no way around it. It shouldn’t be that surprising, considering his childhood, but….

He’s tricky, that’s what he is. He acts so sane most of the time, it’s easy to forget he’s actually totally weird.

Anyway, it’s not like the rest of the kids are much better. They all leapt up like Christmas’d come early—even Lenalee, who generally doesn’t seem to care one way or another about the saving of the damned. Bless her embittered little soul.

It was a Level One. It was a Level One against four seriously bored exorcists. I’m not even gonna tell you about it, because it was plain old embarrassing to watch.

The next time, they figured they didn’t _all_ need to fight. They were mid-performance, more than two exorcists were probably overkill, and anyway a fight’s hardly satisfying when it’s over as fast as that last one was. So it was just Lenalee and Bookman who took off to go akuma hunting, and Allen and Kanda stayed to make it look less like they’d all run away. The boys were about useless, though—interest in the circus was all shot to hell. Lenalee and Bookman came back riding some exorcists-killing-akuma high, and the other two were completely green with envy.

Telling you, _weird_.

So the third time, pity was taken, and they let Allen and Kanda do the honors. Was a Level Two, so they had to take it something like seriously. I turned to look at my Allen, and it wasn’t really Allen at all. It was the Clown.

I like the Clown. I especially like the way the Clown scares the bejeezus out of people who’ve never met him before. Gwah ha ha, and you thought you knew Allen. Nobody knows Allen! Allen is an eternal mystery! Just like death, divinity, and what’s going on inside Bookman’s head.

Kanda was totally unfazed the first time he met the Clown (that is, once he figured out who he was and stopped trying to kill him). If he thought anything of it, it was probably just, “Look, the beansprout may yet be useful.”

Kanda and Allen fight really well together, strangely enough. All the exorcists do, actually—I guess the ones who didn’t died fast. It’s just that you’re not expecting it with Kanda and Allen, mostly because it’s hard to believe they can go above 15 minutes without bickering over something. But they can! I’ve seen it myself.

So my point is, it wasn’t that. My guess is that it was a combination of out of shape and out of practice, because tumbling shape isn’t exactly the same as killing-things shape, is it? Close, but not the same. Or maybe they were overexcited by the idea of an akuma. Or, I don’t know, maybe they were just _having a bad day_.

The Level Two had arms like scythes, and Allen and Kanda ended up all cut to hell and totally battered besides. The Level Two ended up dead, though, so it was a clear win for the exorcists.

It’s a good thing Cross and Theodore weren’t there to see it. Theodore would have cried, and as for Cross, well. The mockery would never have died.

* * *

“It doesn’t hurt,” Kanda announced, sprawled on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

“Y’know, I really don’t believe you,” said Allen, slumped against a wall and sounding raspy and pathetic.

This is great, I thought. They’re gonna try and argue while addled with pain and blood loss. It’ll be a winner. Almost I wished I hadn’t already called Bookman’s golem, except that if I hadn’t, you know, they might have bled to death. That wouldn’t be funny.

“Not the _cuts_ , stupid beansprout. My _chest_. It doesn’t _hurt_.”

“Does it usually?” asked Allen, trying to sound like he was interested, instead of like he was in so much pain he was about to faint.

“Of course it does,” Kanda snapped. “Probably your fault anyway.”

“Huh?” Points for Kanda. Allen was so confused he actually _was_ starting to be interested. “How’s it my fault? I never did a thing to your chest!” And it was probably the shock setting in that made him gaze briefly off into the middle distance and add, “Did think about it a couple times, though.” Something tells me he wasn’t thinking violent thoughts, either.

Noting it. Noting it with fear in what passes for my heart.

Fortunately Kanda did not note it. Otherwise he might have felt obliged to try to kill Allen, and I don’t think they were really up to fighting. Or even standing.

“Definitely your fault. It’s from that one time I died. Remember?”

“I don’t remember you dying, Kanda.”

“Definitely died. On the Ark, that time. And then you couldn’t just let me stay dead, could you? So annoying.”

So typical of the two of them that near-death experiences make them chatty. Maybe it’s the blood loss that does it. Who knows.

“You weren’t dead! You were…just…”

“Dead. I was there, you weren’t. You were _playing piano_.”

“Hey, that piano saved your life, okay? Be grateful. Unless you wanted to stay…gone.”

“Dead.”

“ _You were not dead_.”

“ _Was_ dead,” Kanda insisted, shifting a little in the blood and making nasty sticky sounds. “But I didn’t want to stay that way, I guess. Thank the piano for me.”

“God, you’re a dick.”

“Yeah, yeah. _You’re_ a dick, and everyone thinks you’re the nice one.”

“I _am_ the nice one!”

“Right, you’re the _crazy_ one.”

“Of course, _I’m_ the crazy one. At least I’m not accusing you of _making my chest hurt_ , what the _hell_.”

“Said it _doesn’t_ hurt, stupid beansprout.”

“ _My name is Allen_.”

“Huh, what if I actually called you that? You wouldn’t know how to act.”

“I think I could get used to it. And don’t change the subject. Why is it my fault your chest used to hurt?”

“Told you, that time I died.”

“It started hurting after…after I called you back. On the Ark.”

“Yeah. Really…really annoying…”

“ _Don’t you dare pass out!_ ” Oooh, my Allen. Shouldn’t shout when you have broken ribs. That’s dumb.

“ _Not_ gonna pass out, stupid Walker. Shut up, God,” Kanda said, but he sounded unconvincingly vague and dreamy. Allen wasn’t convinced either, cuz he started trying to crawl over there. With broken ribs. 

“Nobody else’s chest started hurting,” Allen muttered through gritted teeth as he crawled. Doesn’t he know it hurts to _watch_ him? Jeez. “You’re delusional,” he announced, like Kanda was the only one.

“Nobody else made a deal with that guy,” Kanda explained. Or didn’t explain, as the case may be.

“That guy?” Allen asked, but he was distracted. He’d gotten to Kanda, and was starting to eye Kanda’s coat like he was having funny bandaging ideas.

“Yeah, that guy. Didn’t like him. But you just. You do what you have to do.” Kanda rolled his head to give Allen what would maybe have been a keen and penetrating look if he hadn’t been near-swooning. “You do it too, huh? S’like, the one good thing about you. You do whatever it takes.”

“Amen,” said Allen, taking the Claw to Kanda’s coat.

“Was a nice coat,” Kanda said sadly. And if I’d needed any further proof that he was completely off his head, lo, I had it.

“We’ll get you another one,” Allen promised, trying to lay out strips of coat on non-bloody ground. Don’t know why he bothered. Coat was all bloody and filthy beyond recognition anyway. “Why’d you make a deal with that guy? Since you didn’t like him.”

“Was gonna find my sister, idiot.”

That stopped me and Allen both for a second. Someone he’s looking for. Sister. Kanda has a sister. I don’t know what Allen was thinking, but I was having really moment-inappropriate thoughts about what his sister must have done with his hair when they were little. I bet it involved ribbons. And flowers.

“But you don’t know that, because I didn’t tell you,” Kanda continued, looking confused and kinda delirious. “Because it’s none of your…and this should be fixed by now. What are you doing?”

“Me? Nothing,” said my Allen, who was smiling desperately and trying to be sneaky about applying pressure to Kanda’s wounds. Which is not really something you can be sneaky about.

“Well, stop with the nothing,” Kanda ordered with a wobbly scowl. “Probably lose a limb because of you, Doctor Walker. Get away.”

“My ribs are broken,” Allen replied promptly. “It hurts too much to move.”

“Why isn’t it fixed by now?” And Kanda was whining. I hoped Bookman and Lenalee would get there fast, because Kanda must surely be on the brink of death to be _whining_.

“I bet you broke it. That would be just like you,” he continued darkly.

“What did I break, now?” Allen was starting to cast these panicky looks around, cuz obviously he was wondering where the hell the others were, too. Thought I’d give it another minute and then go find Bookman and Lenalee myself and _drag_ them.

“My _chest_ , stupid beansprout, told you before. Look.” He tugged aside the bloody remains of his shirt and showed us the left side of his chest.

We’d seen it before, of course (Allen had even worried about it before), but we’d never seen it looking this _ugly_. It used to be a tattoo…and it still was a tattoo, but it looked like a tattoo that had been done the day before by a needle-happy drunk. Only the littlest bit of a design showed in all that black and swelling.

“It looks…really angry, Kanda,” Allen whispered, wide-eyed.

Kanda tugged his shirt back and tried to shrug. “Doesn’t hurt,” he repeated. “Bet it’s not working. But…maybe it’s not your fault.” He thought about this strange idea for a minute. “Yeah. Maybe I just used me up. This would be a really stupid time for that, though.”

“Used yourself…up?”

“Burning the candle at both ends, he said. Komui said. He said to be careful. Like he knew a thing about being careful, keh. Idiot.”

“That’s…that’s how you were healing so fast?” He sounded funny, my Allen, so I checked on him. He was crying. “You were, what, shaving years off the end of your life and using them when you were hurt?”

I was just about to take off and look for Bookman and Lenalee when I spotted them— _finally_ —a couple of blocks away yet, but coming.

“Was that guy set it up for me,” Kanda was saying, frowning at the memory of that guy. “I didn’t have time to be sick. Still don’t.”

“But you’ve got time to be _dead?_ ” Allen demanded a little hysterically.

“Everybody’s got time for that, beansprout.” Kanda’s eyes focused on Allen’s face, and he gave a weird little half-smile. “You’re crying over me like I’m that doll. Now I _know_ I’m dying.”

By the time Bookman and Lenalee showed up, Kanda had passed out.

* * *

This isn’t good for the kids. They’re definitely not ready to be seeing anyone they love in any kind of pain right now. Especially, _especially_ not Kanda, because he was, by some miracle, keeping it together better than any of them. Besides, he’s always so tougher-than-thou. Guy spends enough time insisting he’s invincible, you kinda start believing him. Even when you know it’s a lie.

My Allen let them wrap his ribs, but he wouldn’t answer any questions, and then he pitched a fit when they tried to put him in a room where Kanda wasn’t. Lenalee pitched a similar fit when they tried to tell her she wasn’t allowed to stay in the room with the boys. Bookman paced in and out, tried to read, went for walks, and basically was such a mess I thought about knocking _him_ out to spare me having to watch him.

They told the kids Kanda was gonna be fine at about 4 in the morning, and they all fell over where they stood, more or less. Bookman crashed out on a really uncomfortable-looking chair, and Lenalee and Allen fell asleep leaning on either side of Kanda’s bed. I hoped they would wake up before he did. The shouting would be unhealthy for him, probably.

* * *

“Tell me you haven’t been sitting there like a sad, pining little _girl_ all day, beansprout,” Kanda rasped out after he’d woken up in the circus infirmary tent-thing and taken a look around.

“I’ve been sitting here all day,” Allen told him defiantly. “And so has Lenalee. Are you going to tell her she’s sad and pining?”

“Hmph,” Kanda said, because despite evidence to the contrary, the kid does have a sense of self-preservation. “Where is she, then?”

“Um.” Allen scratched the back of his head nervously. “I think she’s outside shouting at Lavi?”

Kanda stared. “Really.”

“It’s, you know. About the Bookman thing.”

“Oh.” He shifted to look at the ceiling. “Did he think she was going to let him leave because he’s Bookman now?”

“Well.” Allen laughed a little. “When he’s dumb, he’s really, really dumb.”

“Hm,” Kanda said, seemingly in agreement. Then, “This has been good for her.”

“What? What’s been good for her?”

“The _war_ being over,” Kanda said in his ‘talking to Allen Walker’ voice, which sounds an awful lot like his ‘talking to idiots’ voice. “Before, she would have cried if he’d tried to leave. Now she’s mad. It’s better.”

“Oh.” Allen was looking at Kanda in some surprise, and, hey, so was I. Who knew the kid ever noticed other people existed, let alone spent time thinking about their feelings? “Maybe it’s because she used to expect everyone to die on her,” Allen suggested. “But…now that the war’s over, it’s like she has a right to keep us. She expects to. Maybe.”

“Maybe,” agreed Kanda. This is the most civilized conversation the two of them have ever had, and I include that time yesterday when Kanda was bleeding to death in Allen’s arms.

They stayed quiet for a bit, and there must have been something really great about that ceiling, because Kanda was staring at it like it was a map with an X marking his sister.

“I…don’t exactly remember what I said to you yesterday,” he admitted finally, eyes glued to the _really interesting_ ceiling.

“Oh.” Allen propped his chin on his hands on the edge of the bed and looked down at Kanda. “Do you want me to pretend I don’t remember either?” he asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to decide,” Kanda told the ceiling. “But I don’t like to encourage you to be you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” If he’d said that two days ago, he would have sounded outraged. As it was, he sounded disturbingly fond. Disturbed Kanda, too. You could tell by the way he gave the ceiling a death glare.

“You’re always pretending something,” he said, and his tone of voice tacked on a silent ‘and I judge you’. “It’s annoying, and I don’t want to add to the list.”

“So? Do you want me to tell you about it?”

“ _No_.”

Heh. _That_ got his attention off the ceiling. The look of total horror was aimed straight at Allen.

Allen gave him an evil smile, but let it soften after a bit. “Tim can play it back for you,” he said, sounding only a little like he was really enjoying Kanda’s pain. “Then you’ll know what I know, and we won’t have to… _talk_.”

Shouldn’t laugh at a man when he’s down, my Allen. It’s not nice.

After he’d enjoyed Kanda’s expression enough—priceless, as only Kanda’s can be—he did sober up. Put his chin back on his hands and tilted forward with a look of crazy intent. “And if you want my help, you have it.”

“Why would I need your help, Walker?” Kanda demanded, and Allen gave him the wild smile—the Clown smile—back.

“I don’t think you’ll _need_ it. But if you want it, you can have it. I’ll probably be bored anyway, and you know Lenalee’s going to be keeping us close no matter what. I’ll be around. Why waste a willing volunteer?”

Happily the nurse came back before Kanda could answer, because I know the face he was making. That’s the face he gets when he’s thinking up something perfectly awful to say, and if he’d said it with Allen in that mood, Allen would have laughed, and then it would have gotten _ugly_. And the nurse would have killed them both.

“Nurse” isn’t exactly the right word for Lizzie. If she’d bothered with formal schooling, if she hadn’t run off to handle everyone’s ailments in a circus, if she’d been a man, then she’d be a Scary Doctor. She gets just the right amount of fear and respect, though, even if she doesn’t get the title.

“You,” Lizzie said to Allen, “should not be out of bed.”

Allen scurried (or, you know, hobbled quickly) back to his bed, but it didn’t spare him the look of extreme disappointment Lizzie sent his way. He cowered.

“I suppose you’re hungry,” she accused Allen. He nodded meekly. “Why are you always hungry?” she demanded. He shrugged. “Hmph. Well, I’ll have someone make you something. But it isn’t _natural_.” She glared as if this was somehow his fault. He resumed cowering.

Lizzie whirled to face Kanda with a dangerous gleam in her eye, and it occurred to me that they’d never actually met while Kanda was awake. _Excellent_.

“Mr. Kanda,” she said. “I don’t suppose you wish to tell me how you managed to get those rather serious cuts all over your chest, arms, legs, and face.”

“Aren’t they healed by now?” Kanda asked, surprised. He tried to move and winced. Allen sat up and gave him a worried look. Tragically, none of this was missed by Lizzie.

“Of course they aren’t healed,” she snapped. “Some of them were almost an inch deep. You expected them to heal overnight, did you? Why?”

Kanda stared blankly at her. He never can bite back at authoritative women. This leads to really funny theories about his sister.

He didn’t say anything, but his hand did stray to his chest. Lizzie noticed that, too. Lizzie notices everything because she has _scary doctor superpowers_.

“That tattoo,” she said in the voice of doom. “You thought it would heal you? Who told you it would heal you?”

Allen helpfully bit his knuckles and stared at Kanda with wide, frightened eyes.

Kanda pulled open his infirmary shirt and inspected the tattoo, which wasn’t nearly as swollen as it had been. It was just a coiling black patch spreading from his chest down to his stomach, over his shoulder nearly to his elbow, and who knew how far down his back. Like I say, it wasn’t as swollen, but it looked…spent. I wasn’t surprised it hadn’t worked, and from the look of it, neither were Kanda and Allen. The tattoo was a dead thing.

And it’s funny, because I’d sort of been lead to believe that once the tattoo was dead, Kanda was also gonna be dead. From the way Kanda was looking at it, I think that’s what he was lead to believe, too. But apparently not.

Kanda gave Allen a look, equal parts vicious and scared. “I’ll take the golem,” he said, and Allen nodded, grim.

“Well,” said Lizzie. “That was an entire conversation I just missed, wasn’t it? Anything about it I should know, as the person entrusted with your _lives?_ ”

The boys stared at her. She sighed, but didn’t look surprised. Deeply, deeply annoyed, but not surprised.

“People are always joining the circus with secrets,” she told them later, poking, prodding, cleaning, rewrapping. “Stupid things, usually. Every once in a while, less stupid. No matter what the secret is, though, they’ve spilled it to _someone_ within a month, no exceptions.” She tied off one of Kanda’s bandages with what seemed to be unnecessary enthusiasm. Or so I guessed from the flinching. “You’re the great anomaly! Congratulations, no one knows a thing about you. And it’s been, what, three months?” Suspicious look. “Appearing in the middle of nowhere, Wales, not speaking a word of Welsh. Appearing with cartloads of mystery money. And now appearing with inexplicable near-fatal injuries. I don’t know _what_ you children are.”

Allen gave his best disarming smile. “I’m sorry if we’ve made you uncomfortable—”

“And _don’t_ give me that smile, Mr. Walker,” Lizzie interrupted, pointing. “I know _exactly_ what that smile is for.”

Lying, dissembling, cheating at cards? But it’s still a perfectly nice smile, scary doctor lady. No reason to get all upset about it. Yikes.

“I’ve never known four children with so many secrets,” she said angrily, then marched off, taking the dirty bandages with her.

The hell of it all is that before the war ended, they probably would have told her what was up with them. It’s just that in these confused times, not knowing what the official take is on exorcists right now, they don’t quite dare.

Into the terrified silence that followed Lizzie’s exit, Kanda eventually asked, “What…was that?”

“That was Lizzie,” Allen sighed. “She’s the reason you’re not dead, so we should be grateful. But she’s still the scariest woman I’ve ever met. Scarier than Mahoja.”

“Mahoja?”

“Mahoja was maybe seven feet tall. But she didn’t _look_ at you like that.”

* * *

It was around an hour later when Bookman slunk in, looking…well, looking a bit like he’d spent the last hour and change being bitched out by an angry Lenalee.

“Kanda. You’re awake. Good,” he managed, then collapsed into a chair between the beds with a pitiful moan.

“Have a good talk with Lenalee?” Kanda asked spitefully.

“Go easy on him, Kanda,” Allen said. “Can’t you see his spirit is broken?”

“Both of you shut up,” Bookman snapped. “I’m not taking this kind of crap from two idiots who can’t even handle a Level Two.”

“We have a bad track record against Level Twos,” Allen explained, fortunately before Kanda got a chance to shout whatever he’d opened his mouth to shout. “Level Threes, Level Fours, Noah, them we can handle. Not Level Twos. They don’t suit us.”

“That doesn’t make any goddamn sense, Allen,” Bookman informed him.

“Even so,” Allen said, and slapped a card down.

Oh, yeah. Before Bookman came in, Allen had been playing cards and Kanda had been _reading_. I know, right? Reading. Reading something in Japanese too, which I’m convinced he was doing just to mess with us. Allen and I don’t read Japanese, so we couldn’t tell what it was. It could have been a cheesy romance novel or a translation of _The Art of War_ , and we wouldn’t have known the difference.

It’s not fair. Where has he been hiding this book in Japanese? It’s not like our last trip to Japan was a real book-shopping opportunity.

Anyway, Kanda made the book disappear as soon as Bookman came in, maybe because Bookman can read every language in creation and it really _was_ a cheesy romance novel. But Allen was still playing cards. Actually, Allen was making sure he could still cheat, what with all the weird things that had gone on with his left hand. Bookman watched him for a while, getting this increasingly disturbed look on his face, and finally had to say something.

“Allen. Those cards…are those _those_ cards?”

Allen looked up innocently. “Those those cards what?”

“ _Those_ cards,” Bookman said impatiently. “Those Tyki Mikk cards.”

“Oh.” Allen blinked. “Yes. Why? I didn’t think you’d recognize them, Lavi.”

“When he tried to destroy your Innocence and left you for dead and we went looking for you and found a bloody spot? We found one of those cards.”

“Oh, yeah,” Allen said reminiscently. “The Ace of Spades, right? Fo couldn’t find it when she picked up the rest. Or maybe it was the science guys who picked them up? I don’t know.”

“So you dropped them.”

“No, Tyki Mikk scattered them over me when he left. It was a dramatic gesture or something.”

“Okay.” Bookman closed his eye and rubbed at his temples. “Explain it to me again. These cards Tyki Mikk gave you and then…scattered over you when he was leaving you for dead. Why is it that you’re keeping them?”

“I lost my old deck in India,” Allen explained, puzzled. “There’s nothing wrong with the cards. Why wouldn’t I keep them?”

“My head hurts now,” Bookman complained. “You. You make my head hurt with your never making any sense.”

“I’m sorry?” Allen said, and Kanda snickered.

I feel Bookman’s pain, I do. But this wasn’t actually a hard one to work out. All you have to bear in mind about my Allen is that he’s morbid. Incredibly, unbelievably morbid. In a world filled with exorcists, demons, and the undead, Allen still stands out as morbid. Once you figure that out, lots of other things about him fall right into place.

Anyway, at this point, happily for Bookman’s mental health, Lenalee came dashing in. She dashed in clutching a piece of paper and looking really confused and like she might have to kick someone just on general principles.

The boys looked at her expectantly. She waved the paper around a few times. They continued looking. Finally she wailed, “Why is he so _insane?_ ” shoved the paper at Bookman, and dashed back out.

“What does it _say?_ ” Allen asked, leaning toward Bookman and trying to read over his shoulder.

“It says…” Bookman paused, bit his lip really hard, got the hysterical laughter back under control. “It says, ‘Lost, one beloved sister. Name: Lenalee Li, Hair: black, Eyes: brown, Height: blah blah blah….If found, please contact her devastated older brother, Komui Li.’ And there’s an address in York. And a sketch. Just like a wanted poster.”

The boys looked at each other, and even Kanda came dangerously close to smiling.

“ _York_ ,” Kanda said before silence tempted anyone to say something touching. “That Komui guy must have a thing for crappy weather. Of all the…what was wrong with London? He wanted more rain that badly? Annoying.”

“Who’s annoying?” demanded Allen, scrubbing away tears. “We find out Komui’s alive, and the first thing you do is complain about his _location_.”

“That’s because his location is stupid, beansprout.”

“I thought you were going to call me Allen because you think it’ll bother me.”

“I’m waiting for my moment.”

“Your moment to scare me with my own name? Freak.”

“Look who’s talking, Walker.”

“Ahh,” Lavi sighed happily. “I’m glad you two are feeling better. I’m going to go explain to Lenalee that she’s happy before she attacks someone out of confusion, okay?”

“Yeah, glad you recognize the leash,” Kanda sneered.

“ _There is no leash_.”

“I don’t think lying to yourself is going to help anything, Lavi,” Allen said sympathetically. “Just accept the leash. It’ll be so much easier once you do.”

“I notice that the only time you two agree is when you’re ganging up on me. Why is that? Don’t answer that. I’m leaving; try not to maim each other while I’m gone.”

* * *

So it turns out to be a good thing that Allen and Kanda got themselves beat up. If they hadn’t been beaten up, they wouldn’t have needed to be fixed. If they hadn’t needed to be fixed, the kids wouldn’t have drawn the attention of Scary Lizzie. And if they hadn’t drawn the attention of Scary Lizzie, she wouldn’t have noticed that wanted poster. Happily, they did get beaten up and so she did notice, and since she’d noticed, she brought it back to Lenalee and demanded explanations.

This is how you can tell Komui didn’t put those posters out himself, see. If he’d put them out himself, they’d have been _completely unmissable_. He must have delegated London, because the poster was practically hidden behind a tree, and there was only the one, and…well, we would never have seen it, and it would have taken Komui ages to find us.

Really glad it’s not going to take ages. All the kids do better when Komui’s around, go figure. It’s not just Lenalee.

* * *

It’s gonna be okay. I realize I’ve been saying that for a while, even back when it was in no way clear that it was ever gonna be okay again, but this time I think I mean it.

Sure, Bookman’s gonna fight every step of the way about his duty and emotional involvement or whatever, but the only one who was ever on his side on that was the old man, and the old man’s gone. Bookman can be talked around. Boy’s got no willpower at all, and besides, there’s the leash. And he hardly ever thousand-yard-stares anymore, so that’s good.

Kanda’s gonna find me some day soon and make me play back that whole Level Two fiasco. That’ll make for weirdness, what with the spilling of secrets and the crying, but, you know, it’ll pass. Probably. And he’s got a sister mission, so he’ll be okay. Unless the sister’s dead or something, in which case…in which case we will cross that bridge when we trip over it. And, oh God, the tattoo thing. Okay, so my Allen’s right. Kanda’s a lot of trouble. At least everyone else is up to keeping an eye on him now—it’s not just me anymore.

Lenalee will be fine as soon as we get to her brother and whoever else her brother’s found and she’s got all her surviving loved ones under her eye and _within her grasp_ , bwah ha ha. Lenalee’s great. And she cried over her silly brother. She cried! That means I can count her as more or less sane, now.

My Allen’s okay already. He’s got his people, he’s got his akuma, and he’s got forward momentum. It’s all he needs. He’s weird like that. But he’s my boss. Maybe my boss has to be weird; maybe that’s some kind of rule.

And that’s me done; I’m okay because I have a boss. I lost a boss, I got a boss, I’m good to go. It took me a really long time to figure out that my Allen _was_ my boss, since I was more accustomed to thinking of him as the half of me that talked, but, you know. He can be my boss, too. I think that was probably what Cross wanted anyway, the conniving weasel.

* * *

Once Allen and Kanda were out of Lizzie’s clutches and walking around, we got the hell out of there with some kind of record speed. Bookman wrote a note explaining things to John, and promising him a story in the mail. Allen wrote a note explaining things (in a manner of speaking) to Jack, and leaving him with all of John’s money give or take £50 that might have been lifted for travel expenses, we’re sure you understand. Then we all scurried and prayed we didn’t run into anyone we knew on the way out of town.

Allen’s Mana might have had something with his theory. Keep moving. Go, go, go. If you’re running fast enough, you don’t have time to worry about where you’re going or where you’ve been, and it’s when you worry about stuff like that that all the problems start.

Yeah. We’re gonna be just fine.


End file.
